


in the evening

by archivedgone



Series: they knew well enough. [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Disabled Character, Divorce, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Gay Sex Babey!, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Standing up to abusers, amputee character, and most importantly: pizza rolls, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 18:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archivedgone/pseuds/archivedgone
Summary: They’re in the middle of playing cards—not much else to do to occupy their time. Eddie’s slowly getting the hang of keeping his cards organized with only one hand. Sometimes he slips and drops one, or has to place one down to awkwardly rearrange it, and Richie always pretends he doesn’t see the cards.Eddie looks incredibly concentrated. He glances between Richie’s cards, then back at his own, and asks, “Got any sevens?”No, is what he tries to say, but what comes out is, “Do you want to move in with me?”Eddie blinks at him. “What? Wait, are you serious?”Fuck. Too late to backpedal.—I recommend reading the first part first, as this doesn’t really make sense as a stand-alone.





	in the evening

**Author's Note:**

> !!TRIGGER WARNING!!
> 
> PLEASE take note that this fic includes a scene where an abuse victim stands up to his abuser, who attempts to manipulate and gaslight him. I didn’t know how to add this in the tags, although I tried, but just to be safe I thought I’d add a note here. Be safe!

Eddie knew he was going to get a divorce the moment he saw Richie Tozier in that restaurant. Richie’s teasing,  _ What, to like a woman?  _ churned something inside Eddie. Thoughts he’d gotten good at suppressing. Thoughts he hadn’t had since he was a kid. Thoughts he hadn’t had since Derry.

_ I love my wife.  _

It’s something he told himself every day; forced himself to repeat every time she called or yelled or babied him. _ I married her for a reason. I love her. I love my wife. _

Sure, they sleep in separate beds in separate rooms, but tons of couples do that. That’s normal. They just have different sleeping habits. 

And sure, they never have sex, but both of them have agreed it’s just too much. So much bodily fluids mixing; it can’t be hygienic. And the risk of children isn’t worth it. There’s no point. But tons of couples are the same, right?

And sure, they rarely go on dates, but why would they? They don’t need to. Everything they could possibly want is with each other at home. Surely, it’s normal. Eddie doesn’t need a  _ fun _ relationship, he just needs… one. He just needs Myra. He’s fine with her. He’s happy. Fun isn’t a necessity.

The word  _ fun _ makes him think of Richie. They had so much fun together. Every moment he’d ever spent by Richie’s side, he was happy. Maybe not all of them were great, and a whole summer load of them were terrifying, but as long as he was with Richie it was okay. He misses being a kid with that idiot. 

And then, slowly, the tone in his thoughts begin to change. 

He shudders at the memory of when he and Richie were younger. How he had seeked out Richie’s touch constantly; would push and shove or lean on him or instigate something just to get some sort of physical reaction. He rarely touched the other Losers, but with Richie, he could never stop. That closeness, that warmth—that  _ comfort  _ that touching Richie provided… Eddie seeked it out more times than he could count. 

Years. Years of longing to be close. Years of wondering why. 

Going to church and keeping his head low, hoping if he took enough pills and carried enough bandaids with him he could never get sick; that if he ignored it and denied it and pushed it so deep he forgot it was there that he could be _healed_, because the real sickness wasn’t the allergies or asthma, but a whole different fever. 

Craving the brush of hands despite the germs. Keeping a lent jacket for longer than polite. Pressing shoulders to read comics together in bed. Grabbing an extra ice cream cone. 

Knocking knees in a hammock. Kicking him in the face; toeing off his glasses. 

The leper, sick and diseased, trying to shove its tongue down his throat. The leper, offering, for a dime—

“Earth to Spaghetti.” Richie waves a hand in front of his face and Eddie flinches, suddenly in his hospital bed. Right.

Richie covers his mouth with one hand, voice low and muffled in a mimicry of being on the radio. “Kssh. I repeat, Earth to Spaghetti. Houston, I think we have a space cadet. Kssh. Yeah, we got a real spaced out fucker. The man can’t see a foot in front of him. Spaghetti’s gone past the atmosphere, no gravity. Kssh. Repeat, no gravity. He’s rocketing into the distant void. Oh god, Houston, I don’t think we can save him.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Eddie scoffs, but he’s smiling. He can’t help it. 

“Kssh! Houston! He’s back online! Repeat! Spaghetti’s online! Coming in hot back down to Earth! Oh fuck, get the emergency controls! He’s coming in hot! He’s breaking the atmosphere!”

“I’m going to strangle you.” Eddie’s voice is still fond. He looks around the room. “Is Bev not back yet?” Before spacing out, he remembers her leaving to answer a phone call.

“Nah. She’s still out in the hall.” Richie looks over his shoulder at the door. “I think it’s her divorce lawyer.”

Everything clicks back into place.  _ That’s _ what he had been thinking of originally. Divorce. And then that had led to… Eddie’s mouth goes into a tight, pressed line. He sighs through his nose and looks out the window. He knows his phone has hundreds of awaiting texts and maybe just as many missed calls. 

“Eds? Hey, what’s wrong?” Richie reaches out for him gently, touching his leg. 

Eddie stares at Richie for a moment. He had always longed to be close to him as a child; always seeking out his touch. But Richie had been the same. He’d craved something equally forbidden.

“Don’t call me Eds.” He says, smiling and taking Richie’s hand. 

—

Eddie stares at his phone. It sits in his lap, turned off, screen blank. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“Eddie, if you’re not ready to do this right now, you don’t—”

“No.” He cuts Beverly off, voice firm. She’s looking at him understandingly. “I need to do this now. I want to. I want to get it over with.”

“I promise my lawyer’s a great guy. He’ll take care of your case. She won’t take everything.” Beverly says reassuringly. Her gaze is confident and strong. Eddie wishes he could be like that.

_ You’re braver than you think. _

His jaw clenches and he looks back down at his phone. No.  _ No. I  _ ** _am _ ** _ strong. I can do this. I’m brave. _

He unlocks his phone. Ignoring all the messages and voicemails, he goes straight to his contacts and calls Myra, putting her on speaker. She picks up halfway through the first ring, yelling, “Eddie?!” and just like that, Eddie’s strong persona collapses like paper in the wind.

“U-Um,” He starts, all the previous planning beforehand leaking out of his ears. “Hello, Myra.”

“Where are you?! Are you safe? Oh, Eddie-bear!” And then, suddenly firm, “You need to come  _ home _ , Eddie.  _ Right _ now.”

“I… cant right now.” Eddie says. His tongue feels dry. It’s just him and Beverly, alone in his hospital room, but he feels like tons and tons of pairs of eyes are watching him, waiting, inspecting his every move and word. “I don’t think I’m coming home.”

“ _ What? _ ” She sounds more panicked than normal, if possible. “Eddie, where  _ are _ you?! Why have you left me all alone? You need to come home. I  _ need _ you.” 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. She has that way of emphasizing things, just like—a chill goes up his spine, and he feels nausea worm its way up his throat. Like his  _ mother _ . He married a replica of his own mother because he was so used to being coddled and contained. He got so used to the abuse he couldn’t live without it. 

His voice is shakier than he would like, but he gets the words out. Beverly is smiling at him and nodding in encouragement. She’s already been through this. She knows. “I’m not coming home, Myra.”

“What? Why not? Eddie, what’s gotten into you?! You’re not thinking straight. You must be sick. Oh, darling, come home, and I promise I’ll—”

“I want a divorce.” He blurts. 

The line is silent for a long moment. Sweat is gathering at the small of his back, yet he feels chilled. His heart is pounding. 

“You’re leaving me?” Myra says, quietly, sounding choked. Eddie falters. Hesitates. Is she crying? He hears a sniffle. “Eddie,  _ please _ , I need you. Please come home. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me.”

He looks over at Beverly anxiously. She’s shaking her head, and reaches out to hold his arm, grip gentle yet grounding.  _ Don’t fall for this. You know she’s done it a hundred times.  _

Eddie takes a deep breath. He shakes his head. “No. No, Myra. I… I’m serious. Okay? I want a divorce. I’ve already gotten in contact with a lawyer, and I’m not coming home. I—”

“Are you cheating on me?!” She shrieks suddenly, and his body tenses up, ice cold. He sits ramrod straight, feeling under attention. Myra’s sudden change in tone makes him realize she was probably never crying in the first place. “Eddie, you can't leave me! Oh, I always knew you’d abandon me! You’re so  _ selfish, _ don’t you care about me? What about what  _ I  _ need, Eddie? Nobody can take care of you the way I can, Eddie. You’re delicate, and I’m the only one who can handle you. Don’t you get it? You need to come home.”

He grips Beverly’s hand and squeezes. She squeezes back. Eddie keeps his eyes shut to force the tears back. “I’m not delicate, Myra. I’m stronger than you think. I’m—I’m  _ braver _ than you think. And I’m tired of you treating me like I’m fragile.” 

“Sweetie, you  _ are _ fragile. You need me to take care of—”

“I don’t need you!” He shouts. “I’m forty fucking years old! I’m a grown man! I can take care of myself and I don’t need you treating me like a sick child all the fucking time! I’m so much more capable than you’ve always made me believe.” The anger courses through him. Years of it, all spilling out, and now that he’s started he can’t stop. “I killed a monster, you stupid obsessive bitch! An eater of worlds! I killed an ancient fucking being and I did it all without you! I pulled a knife out of my own face and stabbed—”

“You  _ what?!”  _

“—a guy who tried to attack me! I lost my fucking arm and I’m—“

“ _ Your arm?! Eddie?!” _

“—still alive and kicking! I’m not weak, and I’m tired of you treating me as such. So  _ fuck you _ , Myra!” He’s panting, chest heaving. Beverly is looking at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m divorcing you. And that’s the end of it. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer soon, and then that’s it. Goodbye _ ,  _ Myra.” 

He hangs up on her before she can get another word in, and then he quickly blocks her number so she doesn’t call him back. 

Eddie shakes slightly, and doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision is too blurry to be normal. His relief is met with equal dread. He swallows around the lump in his throat and starts to wipe his eyes, but the tears just keep coming, until he’s sobbing into his hand. He tries to apologize, but Beverly shushes him, standing up to give him a hug. He hugs her back, burying his face in her neck and crying as she pets his hair and murmurs encouragement. 

—

The days that follow are stressful despite Eddie not doing much of anything. He finishes filing for divorce. Realistically, he knows it may take a couple months before he’s officially, legally divorced. Myra definitely won’t make it easy. Regardless, Eddie considers them split up. She doesn’t have any control over his life anymore. 

Other than that, he doesn’t do much of anything. Hospital TV is boring, and checking his phone makes him nervous. He’s afraid somehow Myra will get in contact with him. He knows it’s probably irrational, and he’s just making himself paranoid. He just can’t help it. 

Ben and Beverly left yesterday, starting the beginning of their new life together. Bill left three days before. Richie is staying with Mike. He refuses to leave Eddie. He visits every day, for as long as he’s allowed. Eddie appreciates it. Richie’s the only thing that’s keeping him sane right now.

Today, however, Richie is running late. Eddie suspects it’s nothing. Maybe there’s traffic. Maybe him and Mike went somewhere. He tries to keep himself calm, to find a reasonable explanation, but he can’t help but wonder. The recent stress has made him extra paranoid.

What if he left? What if he changed his mind and he’s going back to California? What if while he was out he forgot about Eddie? What if he decided he doesn’t want Eddie now that he’s lost an arm? What if—

The door opens and Richie comes through holding a bouquet. “Heya Eds, sorry I’m late—whoa, are you okay?” He rushes to Eddie’s bedside, nearly tripping over himself. “Eds? Eddie? Hey, look at me. Look at me.”

Eddie meets Richie’s eyes. He’s breathing irregularly, and his chest feels tight. He knows his asthma isn’t real, but he craves his aspirator anyways.

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Richie sets the bouquet down on the nightstand and takes Eddie’s hand. “Relax… just breathe with me. Slow and steady wins the race, Eds. We’re not running a marathon here.”

That makes Eddie choke out a laugh. He shakily breathes in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Richie’s doing it with him, too, holding his hand the whole time. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie gasps and looks away, feeling ashamed, feeling stupid. He sucks in another breath. The asthma was never real, but the anxiety always has been. And he’d just forgotten; this whole time, being away from Derry, he’d forgotten everything was fake. It still feels real. It’s hard for his body to just immediately adjust after nearly 40 years of believing it was true.

“It’s okay. Are you alright?” Richie asks. 

“I’m fine.” Eddie breathes.  _ Liar.  _ He tries to come up with some excuse, but can’t find one, so he stays silent. 

Thankfully, Richie doesn’t get to question him. A nurse comes in and checks on Eddie. His rapidly increased heart rate had set off some sort of alert. She leaves after a couple minutes. 

“You got me flowers?” Eddie asks softly, looking at the bouquet on his nightstand. Peach colored roses, sunflowers, and baby’s breath in a plastic yellow wrap. Richie picks up the bouquet. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s why I was late. I saw them on sale and wanted to get you some. Uh, sorry if it’s weird.” He awkwardly holds the bouquet to his chest. Eddie just laughs softly and shakes his head, feeling like an idiot. Of course Richie wasn’t ditching him. Why would he even let himself entertain the thought?

Eddie smiles and reaches for the flowers. “It’s not weird. I like them.” And then, after a beat, he blushes and adds, “Thank you.”

“Good.” Richie just grins, crooked smile making Eddie’s chest tighten. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I should get a vase. Be right back.”

Eddie looks down at the flowers as Richie leaves. He leans in and smells them. They have a soft, calming scent. It’s nice. 

Richie’s nice.

Eddie closes his eyes to force back the tears.  _ Oh god, I love him. Why did it have to take 30 years to figure it out? All that wasted time. I could have had this so much sooner. I could have had  _ him _ so much sooner.  _

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, smiling when Richie comes back with a vase, going on and on with a story about when he bought the flowers. Eddie watches Richie fill up the vase with water and awkwardly spill plant food across the nightstand and knows that the beginning of his life is finally starting.

—

He’s been holding off asking about it for a while, what with the rough subject of Eddie’s divorce and all, but he can’t hold it up any longer. Eddie’s allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow. Now’s the time to pop the question.

Well, not  _ the _ question, but, a pretty fucking big question. In true Richie style, he ends up blurting it randomly. 

They’re in the middle of playing cards—not much else to do to occupy their time. Eddie’s slowly getting the hang of keeping his cards organized with only one hand. Sometimes he slips and drops one, or has to place one down to awkwardly rearrange it, and Richie always pretends he doesn’t see the cards. 

Eddie looks incredibly concentrated. He glances between Richie’s cards, then back at his own, and asks, “Got any sevens?” 

_ No, _ is what he tries to say, but what comes out is, “Do you want to move in with me?”

Eddie blinks at him. “What? Wait, are you serious?”

Fuck. Too late to backpedal. 

“I mean, I’m mostly just asking cause you know I want Mrs. K to come too, what with our steaming love affair—”

“Richie, shut up. Are you serious right now?”

Richie rubs the back of his neck. “Jesus Christ.  _ Yeah _ , okay? I just…” He shrugs, throwing his hands up. “I just thought since you and Myra are splitting, you can’t go back to New York, and you wouldn’t want to stay in Derry, and I mean I’m pretty sure you like me back so I guess it just made sense.”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“Cause now that I’ve said it I know you’re gonna say no, so just hurry up and rip the bandaid, man, I don’t need you to sugarcoat—”

“You’re so annoying sometimes.” Eddie sighs, but there’s a tug of a smile at his lips. He looks amused. He sets his cards down to take Richie’s hand. “Yeah, Rich. I’ll move in with you.”

“Wait, really?” Richie didn’t actually think he’d get this far. He squeezes Eddie’s hand.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “ _ Yes _ , Richie. I’d actually been thinking about it, too, but it felt rude to ask you.”

Richie fist pumps the air. “Fuck yeah! Another win for Tozier!”

Eddie blushes and laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. Richie can’t help but grin. He’s so happy he could vomit. He says so, and Eddie immediately recoils, sputtering out threats.

_ Yup, _ Richie thinks.  _ Definitely a win. _

—

The flight from Maine to California is roughly 6 hours, including the time spent in security and baggage claim. They get a taxi back to Richie’s place. Eddie looks exhausted when they finally get to the house, but manages to still look impressed. It’s not a mansion or anything, but it’s pretty big. A modern, sleek two story, with a nice yard and pool. 

It isn’t until they’re at the front door does Richie realize how shitty the inside of his house is compared to the outside. It’s not exactly clean and tidy. Most of the time it’s kind of a wreck, and he hasn’t been here since Mike called him. “Uh,” He laughs awkwardly as he hesitates on putting the key in the lock. “Listen, I haven’t really prepared for any guests, so. Let’s just say la casa de Tozier isn’t in great shape.”

Eddie just gives him a look. Richie smiles sheepishly and unlocks the door, and in they go. 

Eddie, of course, is disgusted, just like Richie thought he would be, but he’s too tired to care that much. Eddie ends up going to the guest bedroom, the only clean room, considering it’s usually untouched, and passing out. Richie could go for a nap, too, but he actually wants Eddie to  _ want  _ to stay here, so he ends up cleaning for hours. He saves the vacuuming for another day, though, not wanting to wake Eddie. 

Once the house is clean, Richie looks through his kitchen. Damn. He needs groceries. A lot of this shit isn’t good anymore. 

In all his cleaning haze, he’d lost track of time. He doesn’t realize it’s past midnight until Eddie is back downstairs, sleepily padding into the kitchen in his pajamas. Richie’s heart does a backflip. 

“Hey, there’s the sleepy spaghetti.” Richie smiles. “You sleep okay?”

“Don’t call me that. And kind of.” Eddie sighs, rubbing his temple. “The meds help with the pain but it still hurts. It’s awkward that I can’t sleep on my right side.” 

“Uh, yeah. I imagine.” Richie’s eyes fall to the empty sleeve. “You hungry? I’m about to make some pizza rolls.”

“Pizza rolls? I haven’t had those since we were teenagers.” Eddie looks bewildered.

“Jesus, Eds. You live under a fucking rock all these years? No wonder you still dress like you’re a soccer dad from 2006.”

“ _ You _ dress like you’re still twenty. I’m pretty sure Hawaiian shirts went out of style decades ago.” Eddie bites back. He sits at the kitchen island and messes with Richie’s small collection of cooking utensils, organizing them. 

“Hawaiian  _ never  _ goes out of style when it’s on me, baby.”

They chat easily, teasing each other back and forth to fill the silence. When the oven timer beeps, Richie carefully pulls the metal sheet out of the oven and sets out dividing the pizza rolls evenly onto two paper plates.

“Seriously? Paper plates?”

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t just microwave these.”

They eat in relative silence, except for once when Richie laughs at Eddie for burning his tongue. It’s not exactly a dazzling first meal in the house together, but Richie doesn’t mind. He likes it. It’s nice just being here with Eddie like this. He never thought he’d actually get to. It’s not usual for Richie to be so quiet, even when he’s eating, but he can’t help but get caught up in the magic of it all. Eddie’s really  _ here _ , in his kitchen, eating pizza rolls with him at 1am. They live together now. This is the first night of many.  _ Of forever, hopefully, _ Richie thinks, though maybe that’s asking too much. 

When they finish, Richie cleans up and then they head back upstairs together. He assumes that Eddie will go back to the guest room, but instead, Eddie leaves down the hall for only a moment, and then follows Richie into his room, and then the connected bathroom, with a small toiletries bag.

They brush their teeth side by side. Eddie struggles with the toothpaste, trying to balance his toothbrush to be still on the counter so he can get the toothpaste on. 

“Want fom help?” Richie asks, voice muffled by the toothpaste froth in his mouth. He knows Eddie will say no, but he asks anyways. 

“No.” Eddie says. He gets it eventually, and they stare at each other in the mirror in awkward silence as they finish brushing their teeth. Richie hates it, so he opens his mouth and leans over the sink, letting the toothpaste dribble out of his mouth and down his chin. 

“Look, I have rabies.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his own toothpaste, having to turn and walk out of the bathroom from laughing so hard. He hurriedly comes back to spit in the sink. Richie tries to make another joke as Eddie readies his mouthwash, but Eddie pushes him out of the bathroom before he can. 

While Eddie finishes his incredibly long bedtime routine, Richie sits on his side of the bed nervously, wondering if Eddie is going to sleep with him in his room. Is that weird to ask? They’ve established that they both have feelings for each other, but there’s still this awkward, unsure tension between them. 

Eddie finally comes out of the bathroom, into Richie’s room, and hesitates in the doorway for a moment. They just stare at each other for a second. 

“Goodnight.” Eddie says quietly, and walks out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. 

Richie sighs, flopping down back on the bed. He turns off the bedside lamp, shuffling under the blankets. He sets his glasses aside and throws an arm over his eyes.  _ Fuck.  _

—

Eventually, he falls asleep, but he’s not entirely sure of when. He just knows around four in the morning he wakes up from the weight of his bed dipping at his right side. Richie blinks his eyes open, squinting in the dark.  _ What the fuck? _

It takes him a couple seconds to remember the only other person in his house is—

“Eddie?” 

Eddie freezes next to him, halfway crawled into Richie’s bed. Quickly, he tucks himself in, as if that way Richie can’t make him leave. As if Richie would even want him to. “What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you okay?”

Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, Richie can see Eddie’s nervous expression. “I couldn't sleep. I’m usually used to sleeping alone, but I’ve just been awake since we went to bed. Is it okay if I sleep with you?”

“You slept alone when you were with Myra?” 

“Yeah. It’s normal. Tons of couples do that.” Eddie says, sounding slightly defensive. 

Richie would normally joke, but he can’t think straight with Eddie this close. He licks his lips, and he’s not sure if he’s seeing things, cause he thinks he sees Eddie’s eyes track the movement. Like always, everything comes bubbling up. “What about us?” He asks. His voice is unusually serious. 

“What… what  _ about _ us?” Eddie whispers back.

“Are we a couple? Cause I’m pretty sure I've been crystal about how I feel about you, and I think you feel the same, but you’re kinda throwing me mixed signals here, Eduardo.” Richie says. It feels good to finally just get it out. He wants an answer.

Eddie looks like he’s contemplating what to say. “It’s… it’s a lot. For so long I convinced myself I wasn’t…” He hesitates.

“Gay?” Richie murmurs. 

Eddie looks away, embarrassed. “Yeah. Listen, Rich, I didn’t even know what I felt for you was romantic until we were teens because I was so deadset on—on  _ fixing _ myself because I thought I was sick; my mom  _ made _ me think I was sick. And I just convinced myself it wasn’t true, and then I moved from Derry and it got worse because I forgot about you. I repressed everything so deeply.” He takes a shuddering breath, and for a second Richie is worried Eddie might start crying or something. “I just don’t know how to do this. I’ve never even allowed myself to entertain the thought until recently.”

Richie does the first thing that comes to mind; he rolls on his side to face Eddie and reaches out to cup his cheek. “You said you wanted to kiss me once. Do you still want to?” 

Eddie bites his lip. Richie can’t help but stare at his mouth. “Yes.”

He can feel Eddie’s breath against his mouth as he leans in. The warmth of his body seeps into Richie’s hand, his side, his knee against Eddie’s, and finally, finally, after thirty years of waiting and wanting and aching, his mouth. 

Kissing Eddie feels better than he ever dreamt it would be. 

They kiss until they can’t breathe; gasping against each other’s lips, sharing breath, shivering despite the heat. Eddie rolls onto his back, freeing his arm to pull Richie closer, halfway on top of him. Their lips meet again and this time Eddie moans into it. Richie chases the sound, licking into Eddie’s mouth to swallow his next noise. He wants it all; every sound, every touch, every inch and second of it—he doesn’t want to wait anymore. He wants Eddie, and he wants all of him. 

“Rich,” Eddie gasps when Richie starts to kiss down his neck. The noise fills the room, but Richie decides that it’s not enough. He licks over Eddie’s pulse, sucking a mark there, scraping it over with his teeth. Eddie shudders against him and lets out another strangled sound. 

While his mouth works on Eddie’s neck, his hand travels down Eddie’s chest, feeling the worn fabric of his shirt. His fingers find the hem and slip under, brushing over his stomach, across the soft hair there and leading down. Eddie’s clutching onto his shoulder tightly. He reaches up further, hooking his arm around Richie’s neck to pull him in for another kiss. Their tongues slide against each other and this time Richie’s the one who groans. 

“Richie,” Eddie breaks the kiss to pant against his mouth again. His hand tangles in Richie’s hair, gripping tight. He rolls his hips up and Richie can feel him hard against his thigh. “Touch me.” 

He doesn’t have to be asked twice. Richie sits up, pulling Eddie’s pajama pants off, throwing them to the floor. He pushes his shirt up to see his stomach, his chest. Eddie is surprisingly toned. He’s got gorgeous thighs, and a nice, sweet little waist. In the dark, he can’t tell very well, but he thinks Eddie is blushing all the way down to his chest. “You’re so gorgeous, Eds.” Richie says, running his hands up Eddie’s thighs. 

Eddie scoffs. His hand is on Richie’s wrist, fingers gentle. “Shut up.” 

“I mean it. You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He leans down to kiss right over Eddie’s heart. His hands find their way to Eddie’s hips, fingers hooking the waistband of his briefs and pulling down. Richie kisses slowly back up to Eddie’s mouth as he takes off his underwear, murmuring, “Cute, cute, cute.” the whole way. 

He wraps a hand around him as their lips meet, and Eddie whines against him. He goes back to holding a fistful of Richie’s hair. Their kisses have turned messy already, all teeth and tongue. Richie is slowly grinding against Eddie’s thigh.

Richie strokes Eddie from root to tip, rubbing his thumb over the head, and Eddie arches slightly, head craned back, mouth open and panting. His eyes squeeze shut. Precome makes the slide of his hand easier. “ _ Richie _ ,” He moans. “Fas… faster.” 

He smiles against Eddie’s jaw. Funny how he’s bossy, even in bed. Richie kisses below his ear and quickens his pace, jerking Eddie off faster.

Eddie’s breathing hotly against his ear, letting out quiet moans. It sends shivers down Richie’s spine. He can’t get enough. Every touch of his hand, every flick of his wrist causes some noise to spill past Eddie’s lips. Richie wants to make the moment last forever.

“Fuck, baby.” Richie curses when Eddie tugs on his hair. His cock is painfully hard against Eddie’s thigh, and he grinds it harder into him, craving any amount of relief. 

Eddie’s arm drops to squeeze between them, stalling Richie’s hand on his cock. Breathing heavily, Eddie rubs Richie through his boxers, eyes flicking up to look at his reaction. Richie groans and rolls his hips into it, biting his bottom lip. “ _ Eddie… _ ”

“Take your clothes off.” Eddie says softly. “I wanna touch you, Rich.” He reaches for Richie’s shirt, helping pull it over his head. Richie shoves his boxers off and then settles between Eddie’s legs. It feels good to be like this; it feels right. Being this close to Eddie so intimately feels natural. 

He leans down and kisses Eddie again, hands on his chest, thumbs finding his nipples and rubbing them. Eddie squirms, noise muffled against Richie’s mouth. Richie wonders what Eddie would sound like if Richie had his cock in his mouth; or even better, Richie’s cock inside him. 

“You sound so good, Eds.” Richie pinches one of Eddie’s nipples. He spits in his other hand and then grabs both their dicks, stroking them together. Richie thrusts into it slightly, and Eddie’s breathing quickens. He’s beautiful. “You sound so  _ fucking _ good. You’re so fucking hot, baby.”

Eddie reaches down to join his hand over Richie’s, quickening the pace, jerking their cocks together. “Fuck,” Eddie moans, looking down at their dicks. “F-fuck, Rich, you feel so good, I—I can’t—”

“I’ve got you, honey.” He assures, though barely holding on himself, and kisses Eddie again. Eddie bites his bottom lip and Richie presses closer against him, grinding harder, moving his hand faster. He’s careful not to put any weight or pressure on Eddie’s right shoulder.

With every roll of his hips, Eddie squeezes his legs tighter around Richie’s waist. Richie can feel his strong thighs tensing up. He looks like he’s close, cause his hand leaves Richie’s to go back to pulling on Richie’s hair, and sweet little  _ unh, unh, unh,  _ noises fall out of his mouth. Richie’s addicted to the sound, addicted to Eddie, addicted to everything about him. Completely and utterly fucking in love with him.

“I love you.” Richie says; groans it into the skin of Eddie’s jaw, and Eddie goes tense, coming with a long moan. Richie strokes him through it, kissing everywhere he can reach. He kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth and Eddie turns his head to kiss him properly. He tugs on the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck.

“Richie,” he breathes against his lips, and their eyes meet. Eddie looks flushed and content, lips shiny. “I love you, too.”

That’s all he needs. Richie presses his face into Eddie’s neck and gasps, jerking his dick desperately and coming all over Eddie’s stomach. His hand is covered in their shared come. Eddie pets Richie’s hair and kisses his shoulder until Richie comes down from his orgasm. 

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other, catching their breath. Richie’s the first to move. He kisses Eddie gently, slow, cupping his cheek with his clean hand. When he pulls away, he presses their foreheads together. “Be right back.”

Eddie watches Richie get up, slowly peeling away from him. “‘Kay.” He whispers, sounding tired. It makes Richie smile.

He comes back with a warm, wet cloth to clean them up with. When they’re clean again, they put their underwear back on, and Richie carefully pulls Eddie closer to him in bed. He presses his face into Eddie’s hair, rubbing his hip gently.

“How’s your shoulder?” He asks.

“Fine.” Eddie mumbles, already sounding likes he’s half asleep. Richie smiles to himself. “Goodnight, Richie…”

Richie kisses Eddie’s head, pulling the covers over them more. He sighs and closes his eyes. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s where he’s meant to be. “Night, Eds.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to the creator of pizza rolls for making them in like 1985 or something so therefore in the It 2017/2019 timeline they existed when the losers club were kids. pizza rolls belong to the gays


End file.
